Day Off
by ricetard
Summary: For some odd reason, Potter's giving Draco the day off, and then is dragging him around to spend time together. It's a bit odd, but Draco isn't complaining. / Oneshot, romance, humor/fluff. EWE. A remix.


**Remix of twilight_tones (at LJ)'s _What's With Today?_ For hd_remix (at LJ) :D**

* * *

><p>Things used to be easier before Draco became an Auror.<p>

For one, he had been younger. Much younger. Now that he was older, he had responsibilities that he didn't want, was too lazy to deal with, and/or had to be forced to deal with whilst kicking and screaming that he didn't want to (all in his mind, of course).

The other thing was that Draco had known it, but still – he was surrounded by bloody _annoying_people all the time. It wasn't like Aurors weren't annoying, because if you had grown up with a father like Draco's, you probably would have heard something every once in a while about "those idiotic Aurors" and "Aurors running around all over the place pointlessly".

Mind, Lucius Malfoy may have been a _little_bit biased when saying such things, considering he'd been one of the people the Aurors would have been after earlier, but still. Several years hearing those words had drilled them into Draco's head.

He was currently trying to resist the temptation to _throw something_, because the people in the Auror Department were so damn annoying. Literally everyone was. Everyone. Longbottom, who wanted to be a Hogwarts professor but get Auror training first. Macmillan, who was an idiot and acted like he was better than everyone else. Boot, who was hyper and talkative and somehow always managed to find something to say even though it was likely he didn't have a brain. Weasley, who was... Well, Draco never really liked Weasleys.

Oh, and there was Potter. Appointed head of the Auror Department at the age of seventeen.

Of course, he (and Draco) were twenty-three now so there wasn't much to consider any more, really. Their school days were behind them. Gone away. Draco was living in the present now, being an adult and being responsible and having a job and all that.

(Sometimes he wished he was a child again.)

It hadn't been easy getting this job – at least, Draco had _thought_ it wouldn't be. He'd been an ex-Death Eater, after all; surely that would be considered if he applied for the job. Which he did, partially because he felt so bad for the things his father had done when he had been on the force with You-Know – er, Voldemort. (Old habits die hard.) Draco had also wanted to be an Auror because everything else was boring, and he thought that _maybe_being an Auror would give him the rush of feeling like a child again.

He wasn't wrong, since there were still other ex-Death Eaters out there on the loose, or Death Eater sympathisers (who were _arseheads_, really) so he and the Auror force had to go after them. But this one June day, he didn't have an assignment but had loads of paperwork to do since he'd put it off for the past few cases, and he really didn't want to do it.

He considered whining and kicking and screaming, but he didn't think that'd settle too well with Head Auror Harry Potter.

Head Auror Harry Potter had been perfectly pleasant to him ever since Draco had applied for this job, actually. Draco had expected to be turned down immediately, or have to try desperately not to be fired, but went for it anyway in that little hope that Potter was a better person than Draco ever thought he'd be. And he was right. Actually, Potter had exceeded all his expectations with being perfectly civil with him and treating him like a human being – sometimes it was like Potter was even treating him as a _friend_.

Draco snorted at the thought. Like he'd be Harry Potter's friend.

Speaking of Auror Potter, he was coming to Draco's desk right now. Draco quickly tried to make it look like he'd been doing important work, grabbing his quill and scribbling nonsense onto a nearby piece of parchment.

"Malfoy," said Potter in greeting, and Draco nodded, not looking up at him. It was also embarrassing having an old nemesis as your boss. Recalling memories could get a bit awkward.

"Malfoy?" said Potter yet again. "Er, could you look at me?"

"Potter, can't you see I'm busy?" Draco snapped, still not looking up.

Potter sighed, and then Draco saw him turn and walk away. Good. Draco didn't want Potter bothering him. Not because there was anything particularly wrong with Potter (well, there were plenty of things wrong with Potter – his hair, for instance), but that he was treating him as a friend only meant that Potter was completely genial and had tried to make jokes with him once in a while. Draco never responded because it was odd. Potter'd been doing this for the past several years like it was nothing.

Draco exhaled deeply. Being an Auror was hard work.

It was still early in the morning, but when noon came around Draco got up and decided that he could treat himself to a lunch break. He felt like there was something special today, or that he was forgetting something extremely important, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Shrugging, he turned and left the office –

– and ran smack into Potter, in the middle of the hall.

"Malfoy!" Potter, for some Merlin-forsaken reason, turned red when he saw Draco. "I was looking for you!"

"Well, you found me," said Draco dryly. "What is it?"

"I, er," said Potter, and Draco doubted that he really had anything planned to say to him. "Want to get lunch with me?"

Draco rolled his eyes; he thought it'd be something important, like pertaining to his job or something, but he said, "Sure," and Potter positively beamed. Draco didn't know why he looked so happy. Potter had been to lunch with plenty of people before (namely, Granger and Weasley).

They walked out of the Auror Department Offices, and Draco asked him, "Did you have a place in mind to go to for lunch?" It _had_been random when Potter had asked him, and Draco didn't know if they had the same tastes in food at all.

Potter turned red again, which was the oddest thing because there was nothing to turn red about. "Er, no," he said. "I was hoping you'd have some suggestions."

Draco usually went to his mother's house to eat lunch, but suspected that Potter may not be comfortable about that. There was something about Potter and his family that just didn't mix well. "I don't have any," he said after a moment. And then he said, "You're the one who invited me out, you should be picking."

"Yeah, but today's –"

Potter cut himself off. Draco looked at him oddly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Potter was definitely lying, but he was also red again so Draco didn't want to make him feel any more uncomfortable. "Fine, whatever you say," he said, waving a hand, and they left it at that.

Their lunch ended up being at a Muggle restaurant which Potter had picked randomly from the streets of London, after they'd gone out of the Ministry of Magic building and changed out of their robes. (It had been made protocol several years earlier for Ministry workers to wear Muggle clothing under their robes, since their work coincided with the Muggle world so much.) The restaurant wasn't too bad, but, when they were done, Draco felt incredibly awkward. It was like Potter wanted to say something to him throughout the whole meal but never did; their conversations had only been about work and... well, work, really. It suddenly occurred to Draco that they didn't have anything any more – no more competition, rivalries, remarks about blood or House, or anything – and he suddenly felt very sad.

He also wondered why Potter had asked him to eat lunch with him.

"Potter," he started but, before he could say anything else, Potter had turned to him and reached up (because Draco was taller than him) and run his fingers through Draco's hair, and said, "You need a haircut."

Draco stared at him.

Potter's cheeks flushed red and he quickly put his hand down.

"I-I mean," he said. "It's just getting long. I noticed during lunch."

"Potter," said Draco, deadpan. "You just molested me. I could charge you for that, you know."

"I didn't molest you!" said Potter indignantly.

"You did. You just touched my head without my permission." And it had felt quite nice, actually, but Draco wasn't going to say that. And he also became aware of Potter's hair and how it might feel if _his_fingers were in –

"I-I'm sorry." Potter's cheeks were still that damned dark colour. Then, somehow, he managed to sober up within seconds and said, "You know, to cheer you up, I should pay for you to get a haircut!"

"I'm not going to get a haircut, Potter." Draco huffed and blew his fringe out of his eyes.

Potter grinned. "See? Even you notice how long your hair's getting. Come on!"

And he grabbed Draco's arm and Apparated.

Seconds later found them in front of a hair salon that Draco recognized – it was famous, he'd got his hair cut there many times before when he was a boy. Now that he thought about it, it _had_been a while since he last got a haircut, so he didn't protest too much when Potter dragged him inside.

"I'm surprised you know this place exists," he said to Potter as they approached the front desk.

"News reporters made me come here to get my hair done before, for interviews," said Potter. "I'm pretty familiar with it."

The witch at the front desk recognised them both – Draco, from his previous visits, and Potter because he was, well, _Potter_– and treated them with vivid enthusiasm. Draco had opened his mouth every time the witch asked a question, but Potter hushed him and insisted that he take care of everything and pay. It was Potter, after all, who'd pointed out that he needed a haircut anyway.

Draco was filthy rich, but he couldn't say no to free service.

The witch pointed them to a private part of the salon so that the other gaping customers (at Potter's presence. Which was ridiculous because there was hardly anything remarkable about his presence, Draco thought) wouldn't disturb them as Draco got his hair cut. They thanked her, and Draco was pushed into the chair by a young Wizarding hair stylist who started chattering away about the texture and colour and length of Draco's hair.

"It's so silky and flows through your fingers, yet so easy to manage. The blond colour really fits it, light, pale, almost white, framing your face." The stylist took the two strands by Draco's cheekbones and brought them down to his chin. "So long, too, so I see why you need to have this trimmed. Perhaps an inch or two would work, which is what I assumed you requested. Your hair is so beautiful, Mr Malfoy. Don't you think so too?" he asked Potter.

Potter's cheeks darkened at the sudden question of opinion, and Draco grinned as he stammered out a "Y-Yeah, sure." Draco was almost enjoying seeing Potter getting flustered so often today.

When the witch from the front desk came in after processing the order, she gave it to the stylist who looked confused at the sheet. "This is what you wanted?" he asked Draco, who shrugged; Potter had made the order. The stylist turned to Potter then, who merely looked confused. Sighing, the stylist said, "Well, I have to go with the requests, so..." and started working on Draco's hair.

It didn't take long for Draco to realise that something was wrong. The stylist had done the instant hair-cleaning charm as usual, but then he started putting complicated potions on Draco's head, which confused him no end – was this a special way of trimming hair? Then the stylist turned his chair away so that Draco wouldn't "have to face the mirror", which Draco didn't understand at all. But it was when the stylist turned his chair back around to show Draco what he had done, when Draco realised _what_exactly was wrong.

"Why the _hell_ is my hair blue?" he shrieked. "And pink! Why is my hair _pink_?"

"I-I don't know, sir, it was on the request form!" said the shaking stylist, holding out the parchment to him.

Draco smacked the parchment out of his hand, and may have smacked a bit too hard because he hit the stylist in the face as well, knocking him out. Draco turned to Potter, who was busy looking guilty and like he was stifling laughter, and said, "Potter, what the _fuck_did you do?"

"I-I don't know!" Potter gasped – oh yeah, he was definitely stifling laughter. "I-I thought I'd ordered a cut, not – this!"

Draco took the order form that had fallen to the floor and read that front desk witch's neat handwriting. "You ordered a _427_for me!" he said to Potter, shaking the form furiously. "Not a 327! The 400s are colours and additional Potion-affecting styles!"

"I-I didn't know!" said Potter, and then he brought his hand down from his mouth and rolled on the floor in laughter.

Draco glared at him, but it seemed that Potter couldn't stop for quite a while. Draco glanced at himself in the mirror. Having his hair dyed pink and blue did _not_look like a laughing matter to him.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Potter finally calmed down and said, "Sorry... sorry. We should wake him –" he pointed to the stylist "– and ask him if he can undo this and just do a normal trim." He took one look at Draco again and giggled.

"Potter, I swear to God if you crack another smile I will kick you so hard you will see stars," growled Draco, and then the two of them proceeded to wake the stylist up.

The stylist did and seemed quite terrified when Draco asked in a menacing tone if he could _please_ turn his hair back to its original colour and then just do a _normal_trim, and to ignore the incorrect request. The stylist trembled as he did so (Draco's punch had probably scarred him for life) but, in the end, it was all worth it.

"You look good with your new hair," said Potter, reaching up to touch it as they walked out of the salon.

"I can arrest you for molesting me again," said Draco, but didn't make a move to bat Potter's hand away. It still felt nice, after all.

Potter quickly retracted his hand. "Sorry," he said, and then looked around. "What do you want to do now?"

"What do you mean, what do I want to do? We should get back to the office!" said Draco. "Come on, let's Floo to the Ministry – "

"Oh, it's okay, Malfoy, we don't have to go back right now."

"But –"

"I'm your _boss_, Malfoy. I think it's okay if I say it's okay." Potter looked amused. "Come on, I think we should do something fun right now."

"Something _fun_? Are you out of your bloody mind, Potter, do I look like a twelve-year-old to you?"

"You've always looked like a five-year-old to me, actually." Potter smiled. "Let's go back to London!"

As he took Draco's hand and Apparated, Draco suddenly remembered that he did want to feel like a child again so it couldn't be too bad, doing something 'fun' with Potter. Besides, the warmth of Potter's palm was very tempting.

"What should we do?" Potter asked again, after they'd walked out of the alley they had Apparated into (so Muggles wouldn't see, of course) and changed out of their Wizarding clothes yet again. They were roaming the streets now, and apparently Potter was still being the complete dunce he was.

"Potter, you're the one who keeps inviting me to do things," said Draco as patiently as he could (which was not very patiently at all). "_You_should be the one to suggest things."

"Yeah, but it's your –" Potter cut himself off and then sighed. "Okay, fine." He glanced around. "Ever been to a cinema before?"

"A _what_?"

"A cinema." Potter looked amused.

"Is that some sort of new pub or something?" asked Draco, confused.

Potter laughed. "Never mind, come on, I'll show you." And he took Draco's hand yet again and dragged him into a nearby building.

Which turned out to be a cinema, which apparently was a place where Muggles watched a screen for an hour and a half, and the screen showed pictures of people doing things or talking, and sometimes had parts that were "CGI", as Potter tried to explain to him. Draco didn't get it at all, and had no idea what a computer graphic was, much less a computer, but the whole thing, and what Muggles could apparently do, fascinated him.

He would never admit this to Potter, of course.

The ticket booth lady had also apparently thought them a couple, which amused Draco, and he played along for a few minutes, slinging his arm around Potter's neck and calling him ridiculous things such as "dear" and agreeing with the ticket lady that they were "a cute couple". It had all been for show, of course, but halfway through the film after Draco had demanded more Muggle "sweets" that had enticed him so (he blamed his sweet tooth), Potter had come back looking mutinous and grumbled something about "Damned ticket lady" and "Stupid Draco Malfoy".

Draco grinned to himself, and remembered why causing Potter so much trouble used to be a favorite pastime of his.

After the film (what Muggles called the thing that they watched for an hour and a half in the "cinema"), _and_after Draco and Potter had sat through all the credits because Draco wanted to see how many Muggles it took to make this ridiculous thing (he decided that all the work didn't seem worth it for this measly thing), it was still mid-afternoon and Potter insisted that they still do things together.

"Why?" Draco asked.

"Because." Potter shrugged. It seemed he had given up on something. "I just think we should."

"Potter, we haven't spent this much time around each other in –" Draco stopped; they never spent time around each other. "And anyway, it's not like we're friends," he continued. "And before that, we only knew each other from school, where we –"

"Yeah, but I," said Potter, "I don't really mind. Can't you tell that I've been trying to be nicer to you over the last few years?" And he smiled and bit his lip, making Draco feel a little bit guilty that their relationship _had_been nothing but this for a while.

"I have," said Draco. "But you never told me _why_."

"Does a bloke have to have a reason to be nice to someone?" said Potter. "Nope." His green eyes laughed behind his glasses. "Come on, we should get something to eat, I'm starved."

"Not when that bloke is you and that someone is me!" said Draco, running to catch up with him as Potter took off down the street (and Draco wondered why he wanted to stay with Potter). "And we just ate a few hours ago!"

Potter dragged him to a restaurant anyway, and they ended up eating a five-course meal at some extravagant restaurant near Diagon Alley. This time, their meal seemed much less awkward now that they had things to talk about – the film they'd just seen, and how Muggles did so much work (Draco could never understand it) and about the aliens that had been in the film (why would there be _aliens_ when there were already Muggles and wizards?), the Muggle sweets Draco liked so much, how Potter needed a haircut as bad as he had, et cetera. And it was extremely nice, really – Potter even treated him, despite that Draco felt the obligation that _he_should pay, since who better to pay on a date and all –

Wait. This wasn't a date.

When they left the restaurant, the sun was starting to set in the sky and Draco tore himself out of the conversation he'd been having with Potter to say, "Well, it's certainly been an entertaining day with you Potter, but I really must get back to work. I have things to do."

"Oh, it's okay," said Potter cheerfully. "I had Ron do them for you."

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, and then spluttered,

"W-Wait, _what_?"

"I had Ron do your paperwork for you." Potter was smiling like he didn't have any other care in the world. "It's all done."

"Are you _serious_?" barked Draco. "Trust Weasley with _my_work? Are you damaged in the brain or something –"

"No, I trust Ron completely," said Potter. "He _is_my assistant, you know, and I'm your boss so I'll look over your work, and I'm saying in advance that it's fine."

"B-B-But –" Draco was still shocked. "But _why_?"

"Er." Potter's cheeks looked like they were on fire. "I'll tell you later. I want to... show you something first."

"Show me something?" Draco said blankly, but, before he could do much more, Potter had grabbed his hand, and Apparated.

They Apparated to what appeared to be a cozy village and, even though there was no sign, Draco knew where he was immediately. This was Godric's Hollow, where Muggles and magic folk lived in harmony. Draco had heard of it before, perhaps from his parents when they were younger, since it had been Godric Gryffindor who had founded the place. He had no idea why he would be here.

"This is my house," said Potter, leading him to a small cottage that seemed to be attached to many others. "My parents used to live in this village."

"Is this where –"

"No, over there." Potter nodded over to a small area of wreckage behind a fence a little way down, which must have been a house at one point. "That's where Voldemort killed them," he said quietly. "There's a memorial there, and I go and visit it every once in a while."

"O-Oh..." Draco hadn't expected to be let in on such a serious part of Potter's life.

But Potter smiled at him. "I like it," he said. "Living here. It makes me feel like Mum and Dad are just down the road, and I can feel that they're with me. I know they are." He touched somewhere in the middle of his chest, and Draco felt himself feeling for Potter all of a sudden. When did he start feeling for Potter? Then again, he thought, _it's pretty goddamned hard not to when someone starts talking about their dead parents like that_.

They left the topic by the front door as Potter let him into his house. Draco was about to take off his shoes, but Potter said, "No, keep them on, we're going outside." Draco was confused, until he saw a door on the far side of the sitting room, and Potter led them out again.

The field that they appeared in seemed to be a completely different world from the one they had just left. There was not a house in sight, the weather was perfect – gorgeous, clear, the sunbeams splattering orange on the horizon. There were also two brooms sitting there on the grass, and Draco turned to Potter, confused.

"I did it," said Potter happily, reaching over for a broom. "Well, Hermione did, really. She said I could have 'my own Quidditch pitch', but I like something like this more." He gestured to the wide landscape. "You can't go too far," he said, "or else you'll end up back in the Muggle world, but –"

"This is brilliant." Draco had to commend Granger and Potter on their magic skill. "So you can fly here any time you want?"

"Pretty much," said Potter. "It's one love I can't let go of."

Again, Draco's heart panged for him. What was _wrong_with him?

"And now I'm inviting you to share this place with me," said Potter, grinning at him and tossing him the other broom. Draco caught it. "Come on!"

Laughing, Potter hopped onto his and started flying around, looking completely carefree as if he had no other thought in the world. Draco stared at him for several seconds. When had Potter become like this? Then he hopped onto the broom Potter had got for him as well, and they both raced around, laughing, diving, and chasing each other around in a somewhat childish manner.

Draco finally caught up with Potter after quite a while; Potter had always been the better flier. In a rushed moment, as they stopped to catch their breaths, Draco asked him, "Why did you invite me here? Why the lunch, why the film, why this?" He still didn't get it – Potter had said that he didn't need a reason to be nice, but surely he had some motive.

"Because," said Potter, leaning over on his broom a bit.

And then he kissed him.

It was an awkward angle because it was from the side and it seemed like Potter would have fallen at that very moment, but Draco, who was smart and_hadn't_moved sideways from his broom, caught Potter by the shoulder and steadied him there so neither of them would be sent crashing to the ground. (Later Potter explained that the grass had been magicked into a large cushion so they wouldn't have needed to worry about it anyway.) Then it finally registered in Draco's brain that Potter was kissing him.

_Potter was kissing him._

He probably would have shoved Potter off, but it was completely unexpected so, by the time he would have regained the senses in his muscles to do such a thing, Potter had already pulled back. And Potter was smiling. And Potter said,

"Happy birthday, Malfoy."

And that made Draco even _more_surprised.

"What?" he yelped. "It's my birthday!"

Potter giggled. "Yeah. That's why I've been doing nice things to you all day. And this." He gestured around them. "Though, um, I would have done it on other days too except today I actually had an excuse..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" said Draco incredulously. He wanted to slap himself in the face for forgetting such a thing! He! Forget his own birthday! _Merlin_, was he stupid!

"It was funny watching you being confused." Potter giggled again. And at Draco's glower, he quickly neutralised his expression. "I mean, er. I apologise, Malfoy."

"Apologise my arse," Draco muttered, and Potter broke out into giggles again. "And what was _that_?" Draco asked. "All that... kissing me business." He touched his mouth self-consciously and could still feel where Potter's lips had lingered.

"I, er," said Potter. "I dunno. I mean, I didn't mean to do that. I mean, I'd been doing nice things for you so I guess I had an excuse, but I guess – I guess kissing really isn't a nice thing, is it." He blushed again and looked down, and Draco was sure that if they were standing and not hovering in midair, Potter would be shuffling his feet too.

"Potter," said Draco. "You complete _arse_." And he pulled Potter in for another kiss, so that they were both awkwardly leaning on their brooms and their feet knocked against each other from being so close, but Draco didn't mind so much – there was something, something about the way Potter had kissed him and Potter had touched him and Potter had said nice things to him all day today; Potter's blushing and Potter's giggling and Potter's laughing at his haircut; just Potter, Potter, _Potter_.

Damn him.

They finally had to break apart for air, and then Potter, with a grin that seemed to stretch across his whole face, floated them both downwards so they landed safely in the grass. They dismounted their brooms and, once Potter put them back against the house where they belonged, Draco asked him, "So what do you want to do now?"

Potter laughed. "I feel like I'm the one who should ask that."

"True, it _is_my birthday after all," said Draco, amused and understanding Potter's frustration with not telling him all day.

"Well I _do_have an idea," said Potter, and suddenly he took off, sprinting into the house and not looking back.

"Hey!" said Draco, running after him. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"You'll see!" called Potter with a laugh, and then he disappeared into a room upstairs.

"Potter!" Draco ran after him, and then went to the only door in the hall that was closed. "Potter!" He wrestled with the doorknob; it was locked. "_Alohomora_!" said Draco, and it clicked open.

And there was Potter, sitting on his bed and looking positively eager.

"Potter, you bastard," said Draco, walking over to him. He leaned down and kissed Potter on the lips for the third time in his life, and Potter wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, kissing him back as Draco gently rested down onto Potter's bed.

"Happy birthday, Draco" was Potter's only response. Draco felt his heart flutter like a child's at the sound of his name, and sighed happily against Potter's cheek.


End file.
